


peripheral

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-22
Updated: 2007-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-29 13:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14474052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: pornlets.





	peripheral

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

peripheral

## peripheral

For the first second, Mal thinks the boy's in pain - he's curled over strangely, breath coming in quietly laboured huffs - and it's only when he flings his head back, his throat bare white under the infirmary light, and pants aloud, that Mal realises what he's seeing. It's past three at night, and the infirmary door's firmly shut - he probably can't get privacy for this in his bunk, not with his sister in the room and in his head, and he probably doesn't realise the angle he's at to the window. Mal should - he really maybe ought to - Simon crams his fist in his mouth, and comes, shuddering, flushed, mouth falling open for a split second, and then his expression closes off so fast that Mal blinks. 

Simon looks clinical, detached, looking down at his fingers with a faint expression of distaste, and he tucks himself away and washes his hands, fast, with no expression at all. Who the fuck looks like that after an orgasm? Even Mal - Mal's still rutting standing there, staring, when the infirmary doors open and Simon comes out. 

There's a long priceless moment when they both just stand there - and if Mal wasn't flushing hard and speechless himself, he'd find the way the doctor's calm expression opens out into pure horror kind of hilarious, as if Mal had caught him stealing or killing or something, not just jerking off. 

"C - Captain," he says, helplessly stammering, blushing so dark under his pale-white skin that it looks almost dangerous, and Mal nods at him, tries to think of something reassuring to say in _this_ situation and finally just nods again and walks on by, speeding up as he reaches his own bunk. 

Simon has a little trouble looking him in the eye for a day or two after that but then Mal gets shot again and it's business as usual and Simon doesn't seem to have any more problems. Bizarrely, it's Mal who can't stop thinking about it, who finds the image cropping up in his mind at the strangest times - in the field, or watching Simon kneel close to River and smile carefully up at her, or watching the precise, fastidious movements of Simon's hands in the infirmary, or when Mal's in his own bunk at night, slowly fisting his own cock. And it's not Simon turned on and panting, he sees, or Simon neatly cleaning off his fingers without looking at them afterwards; it's Simon at the door of the infirmary, staring at Mal with huge dark eyes and flushed skin, something like guilt in his face. It just sex, the quick relief his body needs and nothing more difficult - nothing more complicated - but he wonders sometimes, vaguely, what exactly Simon had been thinking about that had him looking like that at Mal afterwards. 

Then Mal gets shot, _again_ , and he wakes up shirtless in the infirmary with Simon's palm warm on his chest, over his heart: he slaps his hand over it automatically, before he's quite awake, feels Simon's fingers twitch under his and when he looks up, Simon's flushing again, very faintly, and not quite looking at him. 

"My hand, Captain?" he says, in a voice that's a fair attempt at dry and businesslike, and it's daylight hours, working hours, no time for this stuff, but Simon doesn't have any of his medic stuff with him at all, his bare hand on Mal's bare chest, and his blush is spilling up over his collar now, darkening his cheekbones. Mal turns his hand before he can help it, strokes his thumb slowly over Simon's palm, over the fine curve of the life-line; Simon draws in a sharp breath, eyes darkening at the centre, and as Mal reels him in, he feels like he's the one being drawn in, like he's falling.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title:   **peripheral**   
Series Name:   **trajectories**   
Author:   **solvent90**   
Details:   **Series**  |  **NC-17**  |  ***slash***  |  **3k**  |  **03/22/07**   
Characters:  Malcolm, Simon   
Pairings:  Mal/Simon   
Summary:  pornlets.   
  



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